


[redacted]

by Celestriakle



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Choose Your Own Adventure, Gen, POV Second Person, user input
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2020-05-15 18:44:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19301602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celestriakle/pseuds/Celestriakle
Summary: Your name is ☯❒♏♎♋♍⧫♏♎☸, but everyone calls you [redacted] for short. You’ve recently become aware that you are an occupant of what is most certainly the VOID. You’re not terribly certain how you got here, how long you’ve been here, or even where you came from or who you are. Admittedly, you are very confused. At least you have the comfort of this nice, soft BLANKET. You pull it a little more tightly about your shoulders as you contemplate your next move.Inventory: Large Blanket.





	1. start

You look around for a piece of the VOID you could eat. For the most part, an endless plane of darkness surrounds you, featureless and flat. There is no obvious source of light, and when you reach out, your hand comes in contact with nothing. Not even the floor you stand on seems to be real; when you reach down to touch it, your hand keeps traveling until you can reach no further. With such unstable physics as these, you loathe to think what would happen if you lost your balance.

While the darkness is intangible and inedible, you spy some doors in the nearby vicinity that, despite the lack of light source, are perfectly visible. There is an ornate, wooden door directly ahead and beneath where you stand, and several more near you: there is a bright cyan, circular door to your right; a brilliant, shiny red rectangular one behind you; and a worn, wooden one behind you to the left. You think you can see more in the distance, but their details are, at current, lost to you.

While these doors are presumably part of the VOID, they are doors and thus not fit for eating, and under no circumstances will you be eating your blanket. It is your only blanket, and consequently also your favourite.

Instead of, heavens forbid, eating your blanket, you elect to tie it about your neck like a cape. Despite the presumably endless cascade of matter that is your face, you still have enough of a neck to secure your blanket around. You feel a little silly, but you take comfort in the knowledge that no matter what happens next, your blanket is just the tiniest bit more secured.

Looking around, seeing all the paths before you with that cape about your shoulders, you feel like a youth at the precipice of a grand adventure. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt youthful like this, you realize, but nevertheless, you feel oddly heroic.

> Inventory: Blanket Cape


	2. move

Under no circumstances are you singing anything. Despite being in the literal VOID with no one else around, you are much too self-conscious.

You reflect on if you’ve ever gone through any of the doors you can currently see. You look at each in turn, stepping carefully for fear of a loss of ground that may or may not have ever existed. Unfortunately, try as you might, you cannot remember even as much if these doors existed before a few minutes ago, much less if you have ever passed through them. The only thing you can recall, hazy like a dream, is someone approaching you. Their face is blurred in your memory; all you can remember of their features is their short stature, dark hair, and curious gaze.

You hope a closer inspection of the old, wooden door might jog your memory more. You test the ground carefully as you walk, dragging your feet to ensure at no point the ground will not disappear from under you. It does not, and a couple of invisible steps take you down to the level of the door. The wood is raw and worn, soft in the corners, and it appears to have been bleached by time to an ashy grey. Now that you’re up close, you can hear a soft shuffling coming from behind the door.

You contemplate knocking on the door and telling a knock-knock joke as a way to introduce yourself in a friendly and endearing way, but the questions of who or what could lay behind the door, if they would even know what a knock-knock joke is, how to introduce yourself when you haven’t the foggiest idea about who you are yourself, and how they might receive and react to you fills you with so much anxiety that you can’t even think of a joke to tell.

You decide that perhaps you might be better off going through these doors in some kind of order, and since this door is so obviously in use, you simply cannot start with this one. It makes sense to you to start with the first door you laid eyes on, so you hurry back up to where you began and approach the ornate wooden door. 

The ornate wooden door is stained a flawless golden brown and set in a frame covered in beautiful, abstract carvings. You hear nothing behind it, so you cautiously bring your hand up to the brass handle and push the door open.

Behind the door is nothing but more VOID and a jukebox. You can’t help but be rather disappointed, and you wonder with faint irritation if you could have seen this jukebox if you had simply gone around the door. 

> Inventory: Blanket Cape


	3. open the doors

 

You close the door for a moment so you can look behind it, and you are faintly appeased: you cannot see the JUKEBOX. Just in case, you open the door to see if the JUKEBOX still there–it is–and you peer again around the door frame. Still no JUKEBOX, confirming that this door indeed led to a different part of the VOID, meaning it wasn’t useless. You like that. It makes you feel good when things have a PURPOSE.

That settled, you shuffle into the room to examine the JUKEBOX. It has no apparent power source, but at this point, you can’t say you’re terribly surprised. On the front, there is a small screen with three buttons–a left and right arrow with a square Z button between them–below it, and a small sticker next to it that reads:

> Welcome to the Sound Test!  Listen to all your favorites. Press Left or Right to select. Press Z to play a song.

“[Happy Town](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutu.be%2F8oaZF3K7QXg%3Ft%3D8s&t=OGJkN2MxMDI5YThkODFiMDJhZDcxZGRkZDgwMWFlNGRkNGQ1ZDlmOCxLb0RyVjQxQw%3D%3D&b=t%3AcrBf4_5xlfh0oV2FK-oddg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fneglectedspace.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F153842075699%2Fyou-close-the-door-for-a-moment-so-you-can-look&m=0)“ is currently selected. You press Z. You presume this melody is supposed to be rather cheery and uplifting, but you find it rather grating.

You press next to select “[Meat Factory](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutu.be%2F8oaZF3K7QXg%3Ft%3D16s&t=MmQ1M2I4MjY3YTNmMTdmMGQ1MzBiZDRhNGYzZDM2NGZlMDVlOTJhOSxLb0RyVjQxQw%3D%3D&b=t%3AcrBf4_5xlfh0oV2FK-oddg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fneglectedspace.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F153842075699%2Fyou-close-the-door-for-a-moment-so-you-can-look&m=0)“ and press Z to play it. This melody is less offensive to your ears, but still too simplistic to be considered pleasant. You wonder who was in mind when these songs were labelled “your favourites“, because it clearly wasn’t you.

You press next to select “[Trouble Dingle](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutu.be%2F8oaZF3K7QXg%3Ft%3D23s&t=NzJkMDM3YzNhOTNmZjI2ZTUwYzUzNzAzYTlmMTUzYzM0ODkxMTg1YSxLb0RyVjQxQw%3D%3D&b=t%3AcrBf4_5xlfh0oV2FK-oddg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fneglectedspace.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F153842075699%2Fyou-close-the-door-for-a-moment-so-you-can-look&m=0)“ and press Z to play it. You wonder if this is supposed to be a melody at all. You question if you ever liked music.

You press next to select “[Gaster’s Theme](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fyoutu.be%2F8oaZF3K7QXg%3Ft%3D30s&t=Y2JhMDJiYmNlMTMwZmQxNWExZjljZmRlOGM5MjkwNzdkN2FkNmVkOSxLb0RyVjQxQw%3D%3D&b=t%3AcrBf4_5xlfh0oV2FK-oddg&p=https%3A%2F%2Fneglectedspace.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F153842075699%2Fyou-close-the-door-for-a-moment-so-you-can-look&m=0)“, but you don’t yet play it. Something about that name strikes you as familiar. You think about it for a few moments, but perhaps the song would be better to jog your memory. You press Z. The piano begins to play, and a chill strikes you through your core. You remember something cold, something wet, and the feeling of fear, of overwhelming terror. You try to select any of the other songs, but no matter how many times you press Z on any of the other names, the haunting refrain does not cease. Your frantic gaze cannot find an off button, so you begin to back away, but the sound does not lessen as you move away from what you thought was its source. You pass back through the door and slam it shut. You are plunged back into SILENCE.

Your hands tremble slightly as you pull at your blanket cape. You are AFRAID.

> Inventory: Blanket Cape
> 
> Opened Doors: Ornate Wood
> 
> Unopened Doors: Old Wood, Shiny Red, Round Cyan


	4. who are you?

You think about the shreds of memory the song returned to you. Something cold, something wet, and something terrifying. You pull at the memories, trying to draw out more detail, and you remember a glimpse of metal and a soft _drip, drip._

The potential of dripping liquids reminds you of the seemingly endless waterfall that is your face. So distracted by the VOID, you hadn’t thought to question it yet. You can see it falling near the edges of your vision, vanishing at some indeterminate point past your feet, and you are certain this is not how your face used to look. As you bring your hand up to pass through it, your sense of fear fades in favor of a distinct sense of loss. Whatever you once were, now, you are no one, located nowhere. The material falling from your face feels light and smooth as it passes through your fingers, somewhere between ash and cloud. You reach up through the stream. Up, up, through the place where you might have expected a face to be, through your head, back, back. Your arm is at its limit for your reach, and you are certain your fingers should have touched the inside of your skull by now, but they only feel the light caress of the strange material. Vaguely unsettled, you pull your arm out.

You wish you could remember why you are this way, but you cannot.

You look up at the SHINY RED DOOR that is now directly across from you. You don’t have answers, but at least three doors remain that could give them to you. You have agency now, something you’d been lacking for a time you cannot define. You would smile to yourself if you had a proper mouth, but you do not, so instead, you stride BOLDLY toward the DOOR.

Upon closer inspection, the slick, shiny paint that coats the DOOR reminds you of a firetruck, and as you pull twist the knob and open the door, you almost thoughtlessly mutter to yourself, “⬥♏♏♏♏♏⬥□□□□□📬📬📬“

Within the room, you see three Froggits sitting perfectly in a line, staring directly at you. Though you’re not sure, you suspect this is unusual behavior for Froggits, but before you can say anything, in sync, all three ribbit, releasing a shockwave of red light that sends you flying from the room. As you land skidding on the ground, you hear the door slam shut. 

You groan softly, but before you pull yourself up into a sitting position, the spots clear from your vision and you notice, floating in the VOID above you, another DOOR. You are CERTAIN this DOOR was not here before; you would have seen it when you first took stock of your surroundings, before you entered any of the rooms. You question whether or not it’s even solid; as best you can tell, it appears to be just the white floating outline of a door, complete with a circle for a knob. As you stand up, you are fairly certain it is within your reach, but you decide that before you toy with it, you ought to check what’s behind the ROUND CYAN DOOR. 

When you open this door, you find not the VOID, but Waterfall. A narrow path covered in tall grass stretches out before you, and faintly glowing water laps at each side. You can hear the faint chirping of bugs and the soft rustle of grass blowing in the cave drafts; you can smell the murky depths and mossy life. You immediately relax, and a sense of HOMECOMING fills your breast. 

Movement catches your eye, just visible in the distance beyond the tall grass,  and you see what seems to be a dark-haired child vanishing around a corner in the tunnels, shortly followed by a loud thump and yelp much closer to you, which causes you to jump. It seems there is at least one other hidden in the tall grass.

> Inventory: Blanket Cape
> 
> Explored Doors: Ornate Wood, Shiny Red, Round Cyan
> 
> Unexplored Doors: Old Wood, Outline


	5. leave

This place–well, perhaps not this exact spot, but Waterfall generally–you know. You know it as well as someone with no real memories of it but feels like they should know it does. Which isn’t to say very well much at all, but since when have you let yourself get bogged down with silly things such as details? If you can accept that your face is a waterfall of heavens-know-wht and that you’ve spent the past who-knows-how-long wandering through random doors that may or may not actually exist, then you can accept that you both do and do not know Waterfall at once.

You stride boldly forward. Social anxiety be damned!

As you wade into the grass, you spot a small, mint green clam monster rising to her feet, a bug-catching net in her right hand, and you ask, “♋❒♏ ⍓□◆ □&♋⍓✍“

The child’s clam opens at she looks over at you, a confused, uneasy expression on her golden face as she looks you up and down. “What?“

You inhale to ask again, but as you look at her, she doesn’t seem to be hurt at all, and if she didn’t hear you the first time, what’s even the point of asking again, especially when you already know the answer, and you know that stare she’s giving you is making you really uncomfortable anyway, so you might as well back off. You hold up a hand and shake your head as if to say ‘nevermind’ then continue walking through the grass until she is decidedly behind you.

You can hear a rustling up ahead here too, and you stop. You can catch a glimpse of another clamshell poking around through the grass. Apparently, the last girl is not shuffling in the grass alone.

 

> Inventory: Blanket Cape
> 
> Explored Doors: Ornate Wood, Shiny Red, Round Cyan
> 
> Unexplored Doors: Old Wood, Outline


	6. lost

You decide all these people and all this activity is simply too much for you; the VOID may be confusing in its senselessness, but it, at least, is predictable. It expects nothing from you, and you can, in your own time, explore it. It has its own rules, you are certain; you only need to discover them. People are strange; people ask things of you; children are even worse for their unpredictability. You turn around and leave, and the moment the door shuts behind you, your SOUL eases. You take several deep breaths, and your anxiety cedes. You are alone, and that is good. But, it is lonelier. You miss Waterfall.

You untie your blanket cape and wrap it around you anew, like a cowl. You do not understand where there is justice in this, but that doesn’t matter. At least you are comfy, and you are warm.

You look again at the outline of a door and doubt you can reach it, if it’s even real. You don’t think it is. It almost certainly holds nothing. Perhaps, in another universe it would have been useful to you. 

With that possibility eliminated, that leaves only one door to open. It is the first door you examined, and the last you draw near to. Old, worn, soft raw wood faded to an ashen grey. You run your hands over it before letting your fingers fall to the cold pewter knob. The shuffling sounds nearer now. You open the door.

> Inventory: Blanket Cowl
> 
> Explored Doors: Ornate Wood, Shiny Red, Round Cyan, Old Wood, Outline 
> 
> Unexplored Doors: None


	7. greet them

A stranger stands a small distance from the door, and they look about as surprised to see you as you are to see them. They wear a strange, featureless garment that looks almost as if it was stitched from the VOID itself, and when they move, you can hear the soft whisper of their ceramic joints. They take a step toward you, but you step back. You are still shaken from your earlier interactions; your anxiety is HIGH. Still, this monster looks intelligent. You pluck up your courage and ask, 

“♍♋■ ⍓□◆ ⬧p♏♋&✍”

<< can you speak? >>

They are staring at you. You can feel their eyelights in those empty sockets picking you apart, and you begin to regret. You know how strange you are, a senseless face and a body leeched of color. You regret opening this door. You take another step back; you are about to slam the door when you get an answer. The stranger says, 

“✡☜💧📪 ✋ 👍✌☠📬 ✌☼☜ ✡⚐🕆 ☝✌💧❄☜☼✍”

<< YES, I CAN. ARE YOU GASTER? >>

That name again. You remember the jukebox’s haunting refrain. Why does that name sound familiar to you? You are certain it is not your name, but looking at the stranger, you know it. You know it. Your gaze traces along the cracks in their face, and a scrap of memory returns to you: overwhelming heat, and the operatic snap of a weak point giving way. You cannot remember the name. 

“■□📬📬📬 ■□📪 ⧫♒♋⧫ ♓⬧■’⧫ ❒♓♑♒⧫📬 ♑♋⬧⧫♏❒ ♓⬧■’⧫ ❍⍓ ■♋❍♏📪 ♌◆⧫ ♓ ⧫♒♓■& ♓ &■♏⬥ ♋ ♑♋⬧⧫♏❒📬”

<< no… no, that isn’t right. gaster isn’t my name, but i think i knew a gaster. >>

“👎⚐ ✡⚐🕆 😐☠⚐🕈 ✡⚐🕆☼ ☠✌💣☜✍” 

<< DO YOU KNOW YOUR NAME? >>

You shake your head. Your name and face are blank in your memory.

“👍✌☠ ✡⚐🕆 ☼☜💣☜💣👌☜☼ ✌☠✡❄☟✋☠☝ ✌👌⚐🕆❄ ☝✌💧❄☜☼✍”

<< CAN YOU REMEMBER ANYTHING ABOUT GASTER? >>

You fight for scraps. That name is the only connection to your past you have right now; it must hold a secret. As you repeat the name in your head, you find its sound comes with desperation; you find panic lurking in your chest, and its root is something deeper than that which conversation alone births. The words find your mouth before you can think why you ask it. 

“♋❒♏ ⍓□◆ ♑♋⬧⧫♏❒✍”

<< are you gaster? >>

“✡☜💧📬”

<< YES. >>

You look Gaster up and down. Your hands recognize theirs, the delicate formations and threads of magic that keep their joints connected. You see the glints of gold and blue on the night-shaded stones embedded in their palms, and to your surprise, you can put a name to it. Nuummite. Sorcerer stones. You remember smoothing them down, polishing them to a faultless shine, and carefully fitting them into those palms. You remember.

Something cold, something wet, and something terrifying. A sense of panic.

Deep within the cold metal walls of your lab, breathing in clammy air—damp, even for the Underground, courtesy of Waterfall’s endless flows, but that was how you liked it—you were dying. You were sick, and there was no cure for what you had. You were desperate.

Gaster asks, 

“👎⚐ ✡⚐🕆📬📬📬 😐☠⚐🕈 💣☜✍”

<< DO YOU… KNOW ME? >>

“⍓♏⬧📬” 

<< yes. >>

Gaster wasn’t a person. They were your project. 

“♓ ♍❒♏♋⧫♏♎ ⍓□◆📬”

<< i created you. >>

Their expression grows uncertain, anxious even. 

“📬📬📬👎⚐👍❄⚐☼ ✌💧✌☠✋📬📬✍ ✋💧 ❄☟✌❄ ✡⚐🕆✍”

<< …DOCTOR ASANI..? IS THAT YOU? >>

That is it. Your long lost name. Your recognize it instantly.

“⍓♏⬧📬”

<< yes. >>

You are DOCTOR ASANI.


End file.
